Feast
by dustyrosewriter
Summary: He looked good enough to eat… and she had feasted. / Decisions could happen later; for now, he would savor her.


AUTHORS NOTE: Hey there, readers! Welcome to my first published HP!verse fanfiction. I wrote this in a single sit-down a couple of days ago... and something about it said "Share me!", so here we are. Obviously this isn't Beta'ed, so all mistakes are mine - not to mention the HP!verse is also not mine, nor do I make any profit off these words... however, they _are_ my words.

Please enjoy; I would love to hear from you by way of PM or review.

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When Severus came to he was turned on his side, facing the center of his bed. His hand rose slowly to his throbbing forehead; he vaguely remembered tumblers of fire whiskey sliding down his gullet, each one smoother than the last.

He rubbed the grog from his eyes, wiped the hardness from the creases. With his cleared vision, he realized that his side was pressed up against something— _someone_ — warm and softer than even the silk sheets beneath him.

Severus knew those sheets, one of few indulgences he allowed, were immediately a returned investment.

It was then his gaze drifted forward to the woman beside him, easily taking up more than a half-share of the bed. Her hair flared about the pillow, a mess of dizzying curls, looking sex-wild and untamed. She was turned away. Her flawless back, lightly freckled on the shoulders, was exposed. The gentle rays of morning light cascaded in from the room's bay windows and colored her skin a honeyed peach. Severus' gaze trailed along her spine to the dimples right above her buttocks.

There was no way she was taller than his collarbone, seeing as her toes brushed his upper calf. The dove grey sheet was draped enticingly low around her hips, halting his perusal. This mystery woman was, from behind, easily the perfected object of his every fantasy- one he had many, _many_ lonely years to create.

A smirk overtook his face. Albeit, a small one, it pulled at the corner of his hardened mouth.

Moments later, the light of the room increased. Her skin was warm and tanned against the subdued room. He paid careful attention to the expansion of her lungs as she slept. Every few minutes, his mystery woman released a small cooing sound: the farthest thing from a snore he'd ever encountered. A dainty, lovely, _pleased_ , hum.

Her breathing had begun to shorten, he felt his heart beat quicken. Severus cursed himself, wishing he had gotten up and taken his sobering tincture. Merlin, he should have at least brushed his teeth. His morning breath would surely scare the woman away- and that was the last thing he wanted.

The first, was to know her face.

He could pinpoint the exact second she woke. His… _lover_ let out a long breath of a sigh. She had his undivided attention. Her hands moved, fragile looking things- with nails painted a periwinkle blue. They slowly moved her hair in fistfuls, bringing the mess closer to his nose.  
Severus couldn't stop himself from inhaling, and he did so quietly. She smelled like orange blossoms and cooled sweat, a frank-but-heady mixture that he surprisingly didn't mind.

He tried to hold his breath as she began to turn over, pulling the sheet up higher on her curved body. The highest of crimes, in his opinion.

Her lips came into view, followed by her eyes meeting his.

Sleepy-eyed and limp, there rested none other than Hermione Granger.

He couldn't hide his shock, and recoiled from her. Recognition flashed behind her gaze, and she was instantly thrown from the haze of morning.

Her mouth opened and closed as her cheeks darkened pink.

Immediately the wheels between his ears were turning. A past student, a current Hogwarts Apprentice, was lying in his bed, and Merlin forbid it just _had_ to be Hermione Granger! For Merlin's sake, she was twenty years his junior.

By his observation, she felt the same way. With a bashful attempt at pride she clutched the sheet around herself, sitting up and tearing her gaze from his furred chest to focus on the wall ahead of his bed.

He could hear her swallow, see it in her muscles, but neither of them spoke. She gathered her hair into a large, messy bun. Her hands fell, massaging at her shoulders for a moment.

It was then he felt her.

Her magic seemed to keen towards his, pulling him to sit up as well. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the feeling, leaning back against the headboard.

Vaguely, he knew it was her mind. Mind and magic were almost inseparable, and his natural Legilimens ability could feel it without spell or touch. Her aura was peach-flesh white, shining and beautiful behind his eyes.

In an almost intimate gesture, he felt her magic gently caress the military fortress walls he had spent years as a spy cultivating.

They came crashing down in a way he didn't anticipate, and it threw him out of his reverie. The emotion caused him, Severus Tobias Snape, to gasp, his eyes flying open.

Hermione had turned and been watching his face. He swallowed. Her eyes, an amber color that shined behind her thick lashes, met his with an intensity he hadn't ever seen look at him before.

He realized… he had always wanted to.

"Miss Granger…" His first words were hoarse, wet with sleep and damaged vocal chords.

"Hush." She said, shaking her heart shaped face. "Hermione."

He couldn't deny her. She was in his rooms at Hogwarts, his _bed_ , after all. "Hermione…"

She could see the confusion in his deep, conflicted eyes. So brown they were closer to black, the twin pools of almost-nothing flowed unrestricted into his iris.

"I 'accosted' you in the Hog's Head… I think that's what you called it."

"Judging by my throbbing head, we drank more than we should."

"You did."

His brow furrowed. "You did not?"

Hermione shook her head, her blush fading. "I wanted to remember."

She said it with conviction. It didn't help that Severus could spot lies from inches to miles. He couldn't remember the last time someone was so blatantly honest with him. Honest without underlying motive or manipulation.

He carded long fingers through his hair. "Remember… remember what?"

An elegant eyebrow rose and her smile lengthened. He felt that similar opening of her magic, of her mind, of all that she was. His own couldn't resist the second invitation as one of her hands reached forward to touch his leg.

While suddenly immersed in her memories, Hermione had the chance to watch him without the atmosphere of lust. A few glasses of wine had dusted off her liberty and bid her to approach her professor-turned-colleague, Severus Snape, dourly sitting alone in the Hog's Head.

She had been an apprentice at Hogwarts for just less than two years, having completed her mastery in Charms right away after Hogwarts' reopening. She was now in the midst of her Transfiguration mastery under the Headmistress McGonagall. The moment she set foot on the grounds again, after years of being away, Hermione felt like she was coming home.

Until her gaze crossed Severus Snape, that is.

He wore the same teaching robes as always, a line immaculate buttons creating an even taller frame. The leftover scars on his neck were deep pits of hard, glossy tissue; he actively sought to hide them with tightly tied cravats and his house scarves. It left his voice deeper and huskier than ever before. He had to learn to speak all over again; he still struggled with some words, but never let his anger rise.

Hermione had laved them with her tongue, caressing them with every ounce of love she had to give.

His hair, to her guilty surprise, was not greasy- it was soft, and longer than she had ever seen it. Severus had neglected cutting it: the silky strands halted around his mid-shoulders, and were usually tied back in a simple queue. Now, it was pushed behind his ears, free flowing over his collar in a pin-straight fashion, unburdened by their sweaty night.

This appreciation led her eyes to his muscular, furred chest. Hermione never expected the closed-off Professor to keep such a trim figure: he was absolutely _fit_. Furthermore, she never thought Severus Snape would be this hairy of a man.

She found it enticing and entirely masculine. Perhaps that was why he chose to cover his body so thoroughly throughout the years? Insecurity? Or perhaps… to keep students and staff at bay?

Hermione suppressed a smile as she wondered what his face would look like hidden beneath a beard. She thought it would make him look softer, almost like a great big teddy bear. The thought almost made her giggle. The expression on his face kept her quiet, however. He had his eyes closed, his head tipped back, and his mouth open slightly. He was remembering her- _them_.

Her thoughts roamed his face, then. His nose was overly prominent, hooked along the bridge. To her trained eye, it was easily recognizable that it was a break, healed-over. He could have always fixed it if he tried.

Severus' angular face had filled since the war. He settled into a contented physicality that was not malnourished to the extent it was during her own Hogwarts years.

In short, he looked good enough to eat… and she had feasted.

 _Severus floated above them; a third party observer in his own darkened room. A minor three candles were lit, levitating above his bed at various heights. Her skin was radiant in the dim light. His own even looked healthy, pale but hued against the flickering color._

 _She was atop him. He watched the long expanse of her back end in ripe buttocks he was guilty to have lingered upon prior to this encounter. (Staff meetings were long… her ass was a welcomed distraction. She kept it confined to muggle pencil skirts hemmed to a perfectly poised yet flirtatious length.) He felt it was wrong… but that had never stopped him before. After all, she was a woman in her own right, and he was nothing more than a man._

 _He watched her mouth on his neck- on his_ scars _and she was nuzzling them with her nose, her lips, loving them with her tongue. Severus heard his low, raspy moan, and felt a pang of embarrassment at the hoarse sound._

 _The scene seemed to melt and change, this time the moment he was astride her hips, a knee spreading her thighs in a hurried motion that she eagerly welcomed with a small giggle of surprise._

 _Their mutual smirks lasted a moment and disappeared as he looked into her eyes. His raven hair fell, hiding their faces from the room, the world._

 _Severus had never felt more alive._

 _Hermione was the first to initiate their joining, in a gentle roll of her hips that cast the tip of his cock inside her opening. At his heady intake of breath, Hermione gave him a throaty chuckle and tugged on a lock of his hair lightly._

" _Please." She murmured, her hands traveling down to his ass, kneading the flesh._

 _It was the starting pistol shot of a race he was determined to lose. He built a passionate, steady pace that had them both gasping for air. She met his every thrust with enthusiastic ones of her own, her desire painted plainly across her expressive face._

 _She furrowed her brow in her concentration: a wonderful look on her blissed-out features. Her curls grew wilder with each stroke of his cock._

 _Their first round ended with a forceful swipe of his thumb, Hermione coming apart underneath him. Her walls clamped down on his cock in a repetitive motion that drove him deeper, squeezing his own completion from him. He let out a groan; Filch himself could have heard._

 _Floating about them, Severus couldn't believe his eyes. He had never been a loud participant during sex. He usually came and went, usually didn't even undress. Severus wasn't sure what had changed._

 _No, that was wrong, he did know: it was his lover._

 _Hermione was breathtaking, lying underneath him, catching her breath. Her chest was flushed as an after-affect of her orgasm. Her hair was the wildest he ever saw, and her lids fluttered lazily, her lips parted and plump._

 _His head was buried against her neck, his hand palming one sweaty breast before pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her collar._

 _Flashes of another two, then three, rounds of passionate, lively sex ensued, each one more sensual and intimate than the last._

When Severus' eyes opened, the sheet, pulled up around his hips, was tented by the strain of his erection. He ached for her once more, despite the morning breath, despite his better judgment.

Hermione watched him surface from her memories, and smiled slowly.

He thickly swallowed, but reached out a hand.

She took it immediately, letting the sheet fall about her hips as she moved closer to him across his large bed.

Severus tried not to gawk at her breasts. Dusty rose nipples were taut in the morning chill. He pulled her against his chest and let his nose fall to her crown, taking a drag of her orange blossom hair.

Decisions could happen later; for now, he would savor her.


End file.
